


Worse Than Death: Cursed

by SailorSong



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, M/M, POV Alternating, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSong/pseuds/SailorSong
Summary: When Oriana is forced to leave her safe and isolated island for the first time in her life, it is because she has been sent to the mainland of Lateo to save her mother. She is forced to team up with the potion master's son Damon, who has recently learned life-changing information, leading him to control his own internal struggles. Both will have to learn to trust and respect one another as they travel together, where they will discover the meaning of friendship, betrayal, and suffering, but worst of all, they will learn that there are things worse than death.





	1. The Girl with the Blood-Red Hair

**ORIANA**

_Faster,_ she thought, _he is right behind me._

She didn’t dare turn around, afraid she might miss a step. The sound of crushing leaves on the forest floor seemed to be coming nearer. He was close now.

_Not this time._

She caught a second wind as she spotted the sunlight breaking through the trees ahead. Darting right and left, avoiding the large trees and low-hanging branches, she planned out her next move.

This was always the most difficult obstacle of the race. For the past three years she had been running in the race, the soggy ground of a giant marsh would trip her up and Reid would win. She would hate to see that smug expression on his face again; the one that said “I’ll never lose to a kid, much less a girl.”

Determined to win, she increased her speed as she broke out of the woods. The wind at her back caused her hair to whip wildly around her; the deep red mass having long since been freed from its ponytail. Her eyes adjusted to the light and after a moment she could see the end up ahead. At the finish line, the students who were not yet old enough to enter the race stood cheering along with some of the teachers. She smiled when she spotted the silver head of Dominic, master of swords and dear friend of her family, standing a little further back from the crowd. If she won this race, she would be permitted to take lessons from him at the Academy when he had free time. If she lost, she would be cleaning and sharpening weapons for a whole year waiting for the next race to be held.

She jumped from one grassy area to the next, so close now to the finish. And she was going to win this year.

Her concentration was broken when beyond the gathered crowd of spectators she caught sight of a man with blond curly hair standing under a tree. It was impossible; when her father had visited for her birthday, he said he couldn’t make it to the race saying there was a very important reason. It couldn’t be him. Could it? She was convinced she was imagining it, but her heart lifted anyway.

For a second too long she stared, and that was the mistake that cost her everything. It only took one misstep, one split second, and her foot slid deep into muddy hole, causing her to lose her footing and fall to her knees. Caked in muck, she jumped up again, but screamed out when a searing pain shot up from her ankle. With all she had, she lunged through the finishing poles, falling on all fours mere feet beyond. Her breath was ragged and her heart was pounding, but all was forgotten as cheers erupted from the crowd.

Her happiness was short lived as the spectators began to gather around the winner to give their praise. She had been in the lead, and he had passed her to win the race. Again. And what’s worse, the man she thought she saw under the tree had disappeared. It was all in her mind; her father hadn’t really come after all. She pounded the ground with her fist, which only resulted in more mud flying up onto her face and hair. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to cry.

“Poor Oriana,” came the insincere voice of the champion as the crowd around him parted.

Reid, he was three years her senior, yet he acted more juvenial than a boy of eighteen. She couldn’t help but stare as he smirkingly walked towards her, his short red-brown hair glistening with sweat that dripped on his light brown skin. He was still breathing deeply and she could tell he was exhausted; she would have beat him this year and he knew it.

She knew he wouldn’t let her have even that small victory.

Shaking her head so that her hair fell over half of her face, she hoped she might hide one of her eyes. They were different colors - one amber and one color-changing between shades of blue, gray, and green. That was the one she hid, for it was his main teasing stimulus.

“Hey there, Freak-Eyes.” Nope, that didn’t work. “Did you hurt yourself? It would be awful if you had to clean our swords with a broken arm like last year.”

“Shut up, Reid,” she said under her breath as he began to laugh. Helpless, Oriana could only glare at him from her crouched position. She knew that if she tried to stand, her ankle would never support her, giving him more to tease her about. Around her, the other runners had just begun to cross the finish markers. Many were on the brink of collapse, gasping for breath. A few were only winded and joined the rest to congratulate the winner. Not one of them acknowledged Oriana, even the girls who she had once considered to be her friends back when she studied at the Academy. She had come in a close second again. If only she could win, just once, maybe they would accept her again.

She glanced back to the mob that now surrounded the Reid, and fortunately for her, he was too busy enjoying his victory to throw any more insults at her. Slowly Oriana rose, putting most of her weight onto her uninjured leg. She made her way to one of the finish poles and leaned on it to steady herself. She had done this enough to know she would be able to leave soon.

“Listen up, teachers and students of the Great Triste Academy,” called a stern voice, silencing the crowd. The speaker was a short, very bone-thin man named Kasper Van Rycroft, whose dislike of Oriana seemed to grow with each passing year. She could never pinpoint when it started. He was never nice to anyone save for the top student and some of the staff, but for some reason he seemed to really hate her. “As you know, this race kicks off the end of term celebrations, a week-long event where the winner becomes the king or queen of the Triste Festival. I present to you this year’s winner and your reigning champion – Reid!” he exclaimed, enthusiastically shaking the boy’s hand, and then, for the fifth year in a row, the Academy’s Director draped a golden medal around the boy’s neck. “Wonderful job as always, Reid. When your time comes I will personally introduce you to the regent, and perhaps you shall be lucky enough to meet the crowned prince as well. We need more students like you, who work hard and consistently excel at every subject.”

_Except for manners_ , Oriana thought as Reid shot her a satisfied glance. She smiled to herself as she imagined the court’s reaction to him treating the princess in the same manner. He wouldn’t last a week in the palace.

“As for the rest of you, I am embarrassed that you were beaten again by that girl. You are all going to end up with careers as barbers or farmers if you do not take your training seriously.” He narrowed his eyes at Oriana as if to say, ‘Don’t even think I’m complimenting you.’

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, but if she took his baiting, it would take even longer to get home to treat her injury. Pretending to be uninterested, she began trying to remove some of the mud from her face. He smugly continued on with his speech to the crowd, obviously pleased with himself. That was no way to treat a student under his care.

That’s because Oriana was not actually one of his students, at least, not anymore. Director Van Rycroft was the headmaster of The Great Triste Academy, an elite weapons school where children were brought at a very young age and trained until they turned twenty-one. Upon graduation, they were presented to the ruler - currently the prince regent - who would decide their future careers.

Oriana’s own father had once trained here and was granted a high-ranking position when he graduated. It was dangerous work, and his family had to be kept hidden away; it was for that very reason they lived here on Triste instead of with him on the larger land of Lateo.

Her whole life had been spent on the hidden island, and she was allowed to attend school at the Academy until the age of ten, for that’s when academic classes gave way to weapons training and metal crafting. It was then that her parents pulled her from the school, believing there was nothing more for her to learn. She disagreed, and begged for training, but a governess was hired and that was that. Every so often she was still able to participate in events at her old school, but her old classmates were no longer friendly towards her.

Perhaps the director, who was still droning on with his boring speech, had something to do with that.

“For some of you this festival marks the completion of your education. Those of you who have completed your lessons will be joining me for an audience with the prince regent who will assign you in the position he deems necessary based on your talents and teacher recommendations. For the lot of you staying on Triste, training resumes in one week.”

He cast a smile in Oriana’s direction as if to tell her she would not like whatever was coming next. “Now I invite the students of the Academy to join me and your teachers up the hill for the great feast that has been prepared.”

She feigned disinterest at his emphasis on the one word that excluded her from joining them. She was not a student and hadn’t been since she was ten years old, so she was not invited to the feast. Instead, she could only watch as the younger children racing each other excitedly up the hill, followed by the teachers who did not really pay much attention to the speech. A couple of the boys her age gave her an uncertain nod while the others ignored her completely as they followed Reid up to the feast.

With everyone retreating, she tried putting her weight on her sore leg but withdrew it quickly from the pain.

“I wondered why you were so quiet when the Director was provoking you. You did injure yourself in that nasty spill you took.” Master Dominic had stayed behind as he always did.

“At least it wasn’t my arm again,” she said as he knelt down.

“Yes, well, you would be able to see better if your hair wasn’t in your face,” he teased. “May I?” he asked and indicated he wanted to check her injury. She nodded and he proceeded to test her foot. “I did not see your mother today.”

“She still isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh, I see,” he muttered knowingly. He often stopped by their cottage and knew her mother had been battling with illness.

“Master Dominic,” she hesitated for a moment, worried her question sounded absurd. It seemed even more so when she looked back to the vacant tree. “Did you see my father watching the race?”

He stopped what he was doing and gave her an odd look. “I did not, my dear. And I would be the first to tell you if he was here. I’d be very angry if my friend did not stop to say hi to me, let alone his daughter.” He stood and offered her a hand. “On a positive note, your ankle is only sprained, not broken. Unfortunately, the walk home will not be easy.” He offered to let her use him as a crutch, and the two began making their way toward her home, a small cottage about a mile from the school.

With everyone at the feast, the island seemed quiet, still, and serene. As they walked, Master Dominic recounted the story of her father’s first race on the island. How the students of the island resented her father at first because, like Oriana, he was able to grow up at home and with his parents while they had been chosen as toddlers to leave home and never return. However, he proved himself to them all with his first race - he was a spectacle and the fastest runner anyone had ever seen. But no one was watching the younger children, and when he saw one who had fallen in a fast-moving current, he veered off course to save the boy’s life.

“Then what happened?” Oriana asked in an attempt to push him to the conclusion as her house came into view. It was a grand cottage with a large, well-tended garden off to the side. The garden was special to both mother and daughter for every tree, shrub, and flower growing in there had been brought over as a gift each time Oriana’s father visited.

Her mother spotted them, and rose from her bench to meet them, pausing under the large Luxcoma tree at the gate. Oriana groaned, because once her mother saw she was injured, she knew Dominic would never get another word in.

“Long story short, then?” he whispered. “Your father won the race, but more importantly he won their friendship when he put another’s life before his own. Oh! And to this day, no one has beaten his record.” He had barely finished when her mother reached them. “Good evening, Ryssa,” Dominic bowed his head as he greeted her.

“Hello, Nic,” she said with a weak smile. “You aren’t telling her that old race story again, are you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he confessed with a laugh. “Can I help it if you have raised this child to be such an excellent listener of an old man’s tales?”

“She is that,” her mother replied, and as she turned to look at her daughter, the silver highlights in her long black curls glinting in the sun. “And just what has my incredibly muddy daughter injured this year?”

Despite being incredibly frail, her mother was still very beautiful. Oriana had always wished she looked more like her, but instead, she had inherited most of her features from her father.

“Good news, Mom! Nothing is broken!”

“Is that so? Well, Millie, you can put the emergency kit away,” she called into a house with a wink to Dominic.

Millie, or Millicent Appleton, was Oriana’s governess who had hair like rain clouds, who spoke with a slight accent that Oriana thought to be both beautiful and regal. Aside from being a great teacher, she was also very skilled housekeeping, cooking, and especially in medicine. This was useful because aside from her mother’s illness, Oriana often had a great tendency to get into what she called accidents. Most would simply call it trouble.

“No, it is the true. It is merely a sprain; she will be running around in no time,” Dominic confirmed.

“She heals quickly, just like her father.” Millie said as she appeared in the doorway. “Come on, girl. Let me take a look at it.”

Although Oriana insisted she could make it the rest of the way, she could sense both Dominic and her mother eyeing her cautiously as they followed her into the house.

With a sigh of relief, her mother thanked the sword master for his help as he led her inside. “Thank you for being there, Nic. I had hoped to come watch her run today.”

“Oriana said you were not feeling well. It’s nothing too serious I hope.”

Her mother shook her head. “I believe I will be feeling much better very soon,” she said happily, her once jovial self making a rare appearance.

“I’m most happy to hear it.”

Millie, returning to the living room with bandages, resumed scolding her about muddy clothing and injured legs. Oriana finally collapsed in a chair, complaining somewhat of the pain, as her governess began to work on wrapping her ankle.

“Dinner is nearly ready if you would like to join us, Dominic,” Ryssa offered. Over the past few months, Master Dominic had been visiting quite often recently, and Oriana and her mother, noticing the flirtatious glances being exchanged between the widow and the sword master, suspected they knew why. Using teamwork, the mother and daughter pair did everything in their power to play matchmaker to their favorite two people in the world.

“You know there is nothing I would like more, my dear, but I am afraid that will not be possible tonight. ‘They,’” he emphasized the word and raised his eyebrows, “will be expecting me back at the ceremony.”

Sensing Millie’s disappointment, Oriana asked, “Will you come for dinner once the Director leaves?”

“I would not think of missing it.” He winked to Oriana before turning to leave.

A simultaneous call of “Thank you!” and Good evening!” rang from the house before the door was closed for the night.

“All finished!” Millie declared. “I’ll put together a draught to ease the discomfort. Unless you want to try and tough it out again,” the elder woman joked as she stood and left the room, no doubt to put the medical supplies away. She was excessively organized, and it was quite possible she was already making post-dinner plans to mop the floors for the second time that day.

“Thank you, Millie,” Oriana called, to hear a “My pleasure,” shouted back.

“Too bad you won’t have any battle scars to show your father this time,” said her mother as she knelt beside her daughter. She brushed the hair out of her daughter’s face and began picking off flakes of mud that had dried in Oriana’s hair, flicking them onto the floor because she, unlike Millie, was anything but organized. Refusing to live her life restricted by a schedule, it usually came down to Millie and Oriana to remind her to take her medicine. There were times when Oriana suspected her mother’s absent-mindedness was simply an attempt to get a rise out of the old woman.

“I had hoped to win this year,” Oriana said disappointed.

“I know you did. Was it Reid again?” her mother asked. Oriana nodded and made a face that caused her mother to laugh. “Don’t worry. You always have next year.”

“That seems like an eternity.”

“It will be here sooner than you think,” she replied solemnly. “Sometimes the passing of a year only feels like a couple of heartbeats.”

Oriana couldn’t help but notice the faraway look in her mother’s ocean blue eyes, when her attention was captured by a tiny discoloration. The oddity was barely visible now, but Oriana remembered when it was much larger. It was a comfort for her to think that her own abnormality might someday also disappear, for while she once liked her eyes, she now wished they were the same color, and preferably one color so she didn’t have to hide them all the time. So she wasn’t called a freak. At the very least, she’d be able to see better, so it would make getting around easier for her. It might lessen the frequency of her accidents anyway.

“Dinner is ready, girls,” Millie called out from the kitchen.

“Be right there,” her mother called as she slowly stood. “Now, passing up one of Millie’s meals? That would seem an eternity.”

Oriana smiled and followed closely behind her mother; partly in agreement, for Millie’s food was indeed wonderful, and partly to keep a better eye on her mother. In recent weeks, she increasingly feared that her mother might take a fall, one that might completely shatter her fragile form. Millie was a brilliant healer, but whatever was wrong with her mother needed more help than a governess on a tiny island could provide.

******

Before heading to bed that evening, Oriana had to return to the main room to see if Millie had finished the draught for her pain. She had attempted to tough it out the last time she had injured herself, but she didn’t want to lose any time training for the next race. The sooner the swelling went down, the sooner she could run again.

Finding nothing in the kitchen, she headed to her governess’s room to ask when her eyes caught hold of tiny lights reflecting from a small glass bottle sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. She walked over and picked up the bottle filled with bluish liquid, and after smelling it, instinctively made a face. Whatever was in the bottle, it certainly was not going to be pleasant to drink.

“Millie, have you seen where I left the bottle from Ari?” her mother called from behind, startling Oriana so badly that she lost hold of the object in her hands. She could only watch in horror as the glass bottle slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering into a pieces.

Time seemed to slow as she watched her mother collapse to her knees, her face dropping into her pale, shaking hands.

“I… I’m sorry,” Oriana stuttered, afraid to move. “I thought it was for me.”

“The elixir?” cried Millie as she ran over attempting to salvage whatever was left from the hearth. “Oh goddess, what have you done, Oriana?”

With a look of fear and desperation, her mother raised her head, and with a haunting look on her face, stared out the window to the night sky. “She’s just sentenced me to death.”


	2. The Boy with the Storm-Blue Eyes

**DAMON**

Breathing heavy on the shore of the lake, a jumbled mixture of fatigue, joy, fear, and exhilaration ran through him. Cliff diving was probably not the most brilliant thing to attempt at that particular moment, given his current state of mind, but the call to jump was just too tempting for him to ignore.

Looking up at the sky, he inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale, when he was suddenly awash with a strange feeling. Peace. For once, he wasn’t over-thinking, over-planning, over-analyzing. His mind was clear. He knew what he needed to do next. He needed to go home.

Sitting up, he pulled off his tunic and was alarmed to see a stranger looking up at him in the water’s reflection. He barely recognized the long, wild, jet black hair and filth-covered face, but he couldn’t deny that the large burn scar across his chest and clear blue eyes staring back at him were his own. With an empty laugh, he scooped up the water and got to work on removing the days of travel from his face and body. Dressed and washed, he was finally satisfied that boy looking back at him had some semblance of Damon Helvard. Grabbing his knapsack, he set off for the long trip home. 

He knew approximately where he was, for he had traveled across the lands of Lateo many times in his nearly sixteen years of life. As the son of potion masters, the constant trekking was a necessity to acquire the rare and exotic plants for the lifesaving potions they crafted. It was strange to be alone, and he felt some guilt at how he left things with his family.

The guilt was short lived as his hair suddenly and inexplicably began to vex him. Although it had been long like his father’s for as long as he could remember, it was now causing him great irritation. He would have pulled it back like normal, but with his cord lost, all he had was his leather bracelet which was far too thick for hair. It stuck to him, blew into his face, tangled in his fingers, filled with leaves as he slept. How had he ever managed it before? 

After a few days of this, he’d had enough. With nothing much to do as he watched the campfire burn, he sharpened a piece of flint on a stone and with a sharp intake of breath, took it to his tresses. As the first handful released in his grasp, he felt a wave of guilt and regret for an instant.

“No going back now,” he said aloud to no one as he chucked it into the fire and set to work on taking out the rest.

It was a laborious process, and he was certain it looked ridiculous, but the instant cooling on the back of his neck made it worth the fuss.

His final day of travel started normal, yet as he packed his bag, a feeling of anticipation washed over him. It was overwhelming, and he had to stop and sit for a moment until the dizzy feeling subsided. And then again, in the early evening hours he was within minutes of reaching home when he was stopped dead in his tracks, his feet seemingly turned to stone. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed and to eat a home-cooked meal, but he was nervous to face his parents. Or at least, the people he had thought were his parents for in Winguard it had been revealed to him that he had been adopted as a baby. Where were his birth parents? Had they died, or did they just not want him? He had so many questions, but he hadn’t stayed to learn the answers. Instead, he listened to his instinct to run away from his problems. But now he had nowhere left to go but home to face the truth. Ahead were Sabine and Liam... no, they were still his Mom and Dad, and together, they had the answers he sought.

A loud crack and thunderous crash broke the silent serenity of the forest. Without realizing it, he had broken into a run. Toward the sound. Toward home. 

He approached from the road at first, but seeing an unusually brilliantly light up ahead, he slowed his pace and left the path to get closer in the darkness and safety of the trees.

Hiding in the brush, he tried to take in the surreal scene before him. His home, built into and around an enormous tree, was smoking from some sort of damage. He didn’t notice the extent because his focus was on the phenomenal situation unfolding in the clearing. The entire area was encircled by ominous hooded figures standing still and holding flaming torches. Within the center of the circle were five additional figures: two in hooded cloaks who watched as a dark-haired woman was led from the house by another hooded figure holding a sword. Hobbling slowly after them was the fifth figure with hands held high, a crippled man with long, black hair. Damon had to fight the urge to run as his mind reeled. Shocked by seeing a dangerous object, he worried about making any move, either running towards or away from the fray, that might cause harm to the hostages. His parents. His only option was to observe until the time was right.

The crunch of leaves behind him startled him, and from his hiding spot he saw a girl sneaking closer to the glade. Thinking her to be his sister, he swiftly placed a hand over her mouth and pulled her to the ground. 

“Shhh,” he cautioned. He’d made more noise than he’d meant to, and held his breath as he waited for the commotion to resume. Once it had, he let out a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the girl next to him.

It was too dark to see much, but three things about this stranger were instantly clear: she had red hair, she was not his sister, and she was terrified.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered releasing his hand. The voice of his mother rang out, and he knew he needed to get back to assessing the situation. “Stay down and keep your voice low,” he growled as he moved away from her to peer around the bramble keeping them hidden. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked again.

“I heard a scream and I followed it,” she replied quietly. Satisfied enough with her answer, he tried to focus in on the conversation.

“Shouldn’t we help them?” she asked beside him, causing him to jump.

“Are you crazy?” he hissed. “We are completely outnumbered. Look for yourself.”

He watched as she evaluated the situation, but oddly, she was not afraid. He looked again, but tensed at seeing the numerous guards standing at the ready and the man still pointing an illegal weapon at his mother. But she seemingly was not afraid.

“See, the couple both have swords pointed at them. Even if I could get past the men with torches, I would never reach them in time.”

She was quiet, maybe deep in thought, and then suddenly seemed to have an epiphany. “They aren’t there,” she whispered, though he wasn’t sure if she was telling him or talking to herself.

“What?”

“It’s an illusion, like in the stories,” she replied. Before he could ask what she was talking about, she whispered, “Follow me.”

“No, wait,” he growled, but it was too late. Before he could stop her, she jumped up from her spot, intent on running out into the fray. He reached out to try and pull her back, but only managed to grab hold of her knapsack. She slipped free of the bag, and ran towards one of of the men with torches. No, she ran through him! Like he was nothing more than smoke or a ghost. Or an illusion. So that’s what she meant, but how had she known?

Everything stopped as all were surprised by her sudden appearance. Only his dad seemed to understand what was happening and whispered something to her. She shook her head and replied inaudibly.

“Right. Stay behind me,” he instructed, and began moving towards his wife. Without warning, a fire blazed up separating them from one another, causing both his dad and the girl to jump back from the intense heat. “Facinlor!” he called out. “End your tricks; we are on even playing ground.”

The figures in the cloaks appeared to be talking to one another, before one of them lowered his hood. He was a thin man, his face pale in the fire light and his hair the color of starlight reflecting on water. His companion, who remained hooded, made a slight motion with his hand. The man with silver hair snapped his fingers, and one by one Damon watched as the men and the torches surrounding the house disappeared, until the only remaining light came from the moon and the fire separating them.

“Satisfied?” the man, whom he assumed to be Facinlor, called out. He had a strange manner of speaking, for when he talked, he primarily used the right side of his mouth. “You must introduce me to this exquisite red haired friend of yours.”

“Never mind her,” called his father, seeming a little more emboldened. “This is about you and me, and right now, I want you to release my wife!”

“You will be making no demands here,” Facinlor replied coldly. “The rust may have seen through my spell, but you would do well to remember I am still in control of this situation, potion maker.”

“Tell me what it is that you want so we can finish this.”

“What I want is to undo the wrongs I have suffered at the hands of your family,” Facinlor said quietly, desperately; dropping his cool demeanor. “But since that is not an option, I have no other choice than to follow this path.”

“What do you mean?” the potion maker asked, sensing this change. “Please, let us help you.”

The silver haired man spoke to his cloaked companion. Whatever was said seemed to restore his cold resolve, and he turned his attention back.

“This is only the beginning of the changes that are to come to Lateo. As for my demands, they are simple; you will come with me to primarily make the Ambrosia Elixir and anything else that could prove useful in the future. In exchange, you and Sabine will be given a comfortable life in my palace when I am king.”

A silence passed between both sides for a time; then, without warning, his father burst into a fit of laughter.

“You are threatening me with palace life?” he asked shortly after the laughter died away. Facinlor raised only an eyebrow, but remained silent. “What if I told you I was not interested?” he said defiantly.

“I will simply offer you something you can not refuse.” Almost instantly the fire between them blazed higher, only now it encircled the two men and his mother. “Your wife will be joining me tonight, whether you choose to or not.”

“Don’t do it, Liam!” his mother’s voice yelled from beyond the flames.

“Sabine!” his father shouted back unable to hide the desperation in his voice. “No, wait, this is absurd. You have destroyed most of my ingredients; it will take me at least a year, maybe longer, just to replace them so I can begin to make your potion.”

“Then you will have until the start of the Season of Fall and no later. Don’t bother following us. And I don’t recommend attempting a rescue, or you will surely learn what is worse than death.”

There was a blinding flash of light one instant, and in the next they were gone leaving only the pair standing alone under the clear moonlit night.

Damon, still very confused by what had just occurred, took off in the direction he believed the attackers may have taken his mother. As he ran, his mind was clouded with questions of what had happened moments before. Who were these attackers? How did they use magic? Who was that girl?

His instincts were correct, for up ahead, he found the two cloaked men with his mother. Her pleading was in a voice of kindness and reasoning, not the terror expected of someone who was being abducted from home. Knowing he could lose them at any moment, he took a chance and rushed up to them, hoping the element of surprise would work in his favor.

His attempt backfired spectacularly, and he was thrown backwards several feet by an unknown force, landing uncomfortably hard on his knapsack. His vision went dark and his ears rang, but as his senses returned, he could hear muffled voices. A soft hand touched his face, brushing his hair away, and as he looked, he could see a blurred vision of his mother kneeling over him.

The words “Damon, can you hear me?” finally came through and he groaned in response as she came into focus. “You can’t help me right now, but I’ll be okay. I need you to go home to your father and sister, and,” she whispered the last part as he felt her squeeze his hand around a foreign object, “I especially need you to protect that girl. She is your path.”

“That’s enough,” said the silver haired man as he pulled her to her feet and away from Damon. “I let you say good-bye. Time’s up.”

“Mom?” he tried, still disoriented. 

“I promise I will be okay. I love you. Help her!”

“Mom!” He jumped up and tried again to run after her, but the pair of kidnappers, having enough of his intrusion, reenacted the illusion spell and clones of them appeared everywhere. In a mass confusion, they fled in different directions all at once. Without a thought, he took off after the three that seemed the most likely to be real, chasing after them.

_ This is not how I expected my homecoming to go _ , he thought wryly as he ran into the night.


	3. Potion-Maker and Son

**ORIANA**

The stillness in the glade was filled only by the sound of wind blowing through the trees on the cloudless night. It was the potion master who finally broke the silence.

“Have they all gone?” he whispered low into her ear. “If they can create the illusion of people, it is not much of a stretch to believe they could also use the same magic to hide themselves.”

“I don’t see anyone,” she whispered back. “Should we try to go after them?” When he didn’t respond, she tried to get a better look, in particular of the area behind the shrubs where she had been knocked to the ground, but the potion maker’s hand caught her shoulder. “There was someone hiding with me in the bushes,” she explained pointing. “A boy. Maybe a man. I don’t know, it was hard to tell.”

“A boy?” he asked surprised and released his grip. “What did he look like?”

“It was hard to see, but I think he had dark hair-” Before she could finish, he began walking over to the shrubs. He moved slowly, either utilizing stealth or because of an injury. He began quickly looking around, but moments later, he emerged with only a bag in hand. He continued his slow walk, and she realized why as she noticed he had a limp.

“This was all I found. I assume it is yours,” he paused, “what is your name by the way?”

“Oriana,” she replied, though he didn’t seem to be listening. She looked at the knapsack and nodded that it was hers. One of the straps was broken and ripped the bag slightly, probably because the boy had tried to hold her back.

“My name is Liam Helvard,” he said, handing it over to her. “It is possible that the boy you met was my son Damon, although we…I was not expecting him home so soon.”

She looked around, but there was no sound in the dead calm. “Where do you think he went?”

“Where indeed,” he sighed, peering one last time into the darkness. “We should get inside,” he spoke at last. “As you can imagine I have a few questions for you.”

She was eager to get out of the night but a little taken aback by the man’s behavior. He was very calm for someone whose life had just been threatened and wife had been abducted only moments before. Without any other option she followed him into the house and was shocked by the amount of destruction. Pillows and cushions were slashed open and feathers littered the floor in almost every room, and just about every piece of furniture had been overturned. A mixture of broken glass and liquids lay underfoot, making a strange crunching-sloshing sound with every step they took.

“We told him we had run out of the potion,” he sighed to no one in particular. He pushed aside some of the disarray with his bad foot, revealing a long wooden cane with a claw at the top that grasped a clear sphere that glimmered when it caught the light. He picked it up, and giving it a couple of thumps on the floor, he faced her with a frown. “Forgive the mess. Usually the house is in slightly better condition.”

While Oriana contemplated how Millie would react to the mess in front of her, the potion maker led her further into the chaos. Trying to ignore the damage, she marveled at the structure of the house. The house itself had been built in and around a massive tree. Almost all of the architecture was natural: thick living branches created walls, stairs and the railing, as well as the base of the second floor. Much of the furniture was made of twisted or braided branches. Long sweeping branches of leaves were used as doors and window covers. If it wasn’t such a disaster, it would have been quite beautiful.

Down the hall she found herself in what must have at some point been a kitchen. After picking up the table and some chairs, he motioned for her have a seat.

“Are you hungry?” he asked kindly.

“No, thank you,” she replied. Before she could say anything else he was across the room preparing drinks. She wasn’t thirsty either, but she didn’t want to be rude. Her stomach was in knots with nerves, and she was worried that consuming anything would cause her to be sick. The potions littering the floor were a persistence reminder, nagging her to confess what she had done to her mother’s potion.

_She’s just sentenced me to death._

“This will help calm your mind and help you sleep after all that happened this evening,” he said, setting a cup on the table in front of her. With his gaze locked on the cup, he sat down in the chair across from her, his hand still clutching the top of his cane.

“I’m sorry about your wife,” she said to him, putting her hands next to the glass to be polite.  He looked up to her and gave a sad smile, and she paid attention to her host’s features: he had dark eyes and his kind face was adorned with a well-groomed beard that was the same dark color as his long hair.

“I feel I am somewhat indebted to you. I think you may have saved my life.”

“I don’t know how much I helped,” she replied, feeling both surprised and proud.

“You helped a great deal, though I must confess I am confused as to what brought you out here. We are days from anything resembling a city.”

“I was sent here to find you,” she replied, jumping up out of her seat so fast, she nearly knocked over her drink. Apologizing, she reached into her pocket and removed the note Master Dominic had given her, sliding it across the table.

As he read, her hands grasped the mug for the first time. The white frothy liquid inside was warm, and upon her touch, she thought she saw it glisten slightly. After having a chance to sit for the first time that day, her body began waking up senses that had been dulled during her traveling, and she craved food, drink, something. As she lifted the glass to her lips, she could almost taste the drink in her hand.

“Stop!” Liam screamed startling her. In a sudden motion he knocked the drink away, causing it to break, the liquid mixing with all of the others already inhabiting the floor. Ever so gently, he moved his hand towards her face, and she knew precisely what he was looking for. “May I?” Too shocked to move more than a nod of approval, she allowed him to brush her hair aside, revealing her hidden eye. “Astonishing,” he said in disbelief. “Please forgive me, Oriana. I should have known you immediately, but I fear I’m not myself at the moment.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her heart still racing.

“Your mother is Neryssa, correct? You live with her on Triste Island?”

“Yes,” Oriana replied. “I mean, she usually goes by Ryssa, but what does that have to do with that drink?”

“Ordinary people are not supposed to know the location of this sanctuary or who the potion makers are. That drink was really a potion that would have made you forget what you saw and heard tonight.”

“So it erases memories?” she asked glancing down to the mess on the floor.

“I suppose in a manner of speaking. Covering them up is a better way of looking at it; the memories aren’t gone but are simply locked away until they are needed.”

She was stunned. “That’s horrible. Why would such a potion be in existence?”

“The rulers of Lateo have been using it for centuries. While I may not agree with its use, it is not my place to stop supplying it. Now that I know who you are and why you are here, there is no need for such dramatics.”

Liam leaned over in his chair and picked up a small bottle from the floor that was still intact. Reading the label he set it on the table and resumed speaking.

“The potion you are after is not easily made, and as you can see, Facinlor destroyed a good portion of my ingredients before you arrived. He too was after the Ambrosia Elixir.”

“Why? Who is he?” she asked.

“I know very little about the man. I wasn’t even aware he was still alive,” Liam said sadly, scratching at his beard. “My wife and I met him years ago; he had been imprisoned for murder, though he was later exonerated.”

Murder? And she had stood up to him?

“Will he return?” She watched as he disappeared under the table, reemerging seconds later with another bottle.

“No,” he said with conviction. “Not this night.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked with a yawn.

“You have had a long day,” Liam said with a smile. “My daughter is away, so you can get some rest in her room at the end of the hall. We will talk more in the morning to figure out how we can help your mother.”

******

Despite everything she had experienced over the past couple of days, sleep fell quickly upon her that night. The next morning she was startled awake by a loud voice. Worried that Facinlor had returned, she crept silently out of the room and down the hall, stopping outside of the kitchen out of sight.

“I followed as far as I could, but he used the illusion trick again,” she heard a male voice say. “I have no idea where I lost them.”

She peeked around the doorway to see who was speaking, but the tall figure had his back towards her. She wondered if he was Liam’s son, since he had the same shaggy dark hair as the boy she met the night before. She tried to catch the eye of the potion maker to make sure it was safe.

“It can’t be helped right now,” Liam responded, looking past the new arrival to her direction.

“Is Angelina here?” the boy asked.

“She stayed in, erm back,” He made a signal with his hand for Oriana to wait, and with an attempt to distract, Liam exclaimed “You cut your hair!” as though he suddenly realized it.

The stranger made an unconscious grab to the back of his neck, reaching for something which was no longer there. Using the diversion, Oriana attempted to retreat back to her room, but the potion-warped floorboards let out a loud creak. She looked up as the stranger turned to face her, and her breath caught in her throat. Indeed, it was the boy from the previous night, and she could make out his features better now than she could in the torch light. Obviously exhausted and filthy from days of travel, he was very thin, but his loose-fitting clothing made it seem as if the lanky look was recent. Although he had the same dark hair as Liam, he did not have his father’s dark eyes. Instead, they were of the richest blue like the water far off the coast of Triste. And they were staring at her.

“You?” he asked enraged, turning back to Liam. “What is she doing here? She nearly got you killed last night.”

“Oh, I don’t believe so,” Liam said thoughtfully. “In fact, I doubt I would even still be here if she had not seen through the illusion.”

The boy did not speak but continued to stare at Oriana.

“She got lucky,” he said finally. He brushed coldly past her and walked up the stairs.

“Damon!” Liam called up after the boy but there was no response. “I apologize for my son’s rude behavior. Hopefully he will be in a better temperament after he has had some sleep.” A look of disappointment briefly passed his face, though he tried to hide it.

“He is probably worried about his mother,” she said following his gaze up the unusually staircase. “I know how he feels.”

Liam nodded in agreement.

“I need to talk to you about the potion for your mother. First, follow me.”

Still dependent on his cane, he led her through the kitchen and to a door with a broken lock. Inside was a large pantry with shelves lining the walls and more glass and liquids littering the floor.

“I spent the night trying to salvage what I could. I’m afraid that all I can do for your mother right now is to provide a temporary potion for her to ingest daily. However, it is only a short-term solution. She will need the Ambrosia Potion and soon.”

“Will she really die without it?” she asked him quietly, though she already knew the answer.

“She will,” he replied solemnly.

“How long will it take to get the new potion for her?”

“Now that,” he sighed, “is one of the biggest obstacles to solving this problem. I have several ingredients to replace as well as many visits to make around Lateo. Worst of all, Facinlor has given me very little time to get this done before he returns. Without my wife here, it seems hopeless.”

“What if I help you collect the ingredients?” There was no other option. She could not go back home to Triste empty-handed just to wait and watch her mother die.

Liam considered this for a moment, almost as if he were weighing the outcomes.

“I do not think that is such a good idea,” he spoke finally. “As much as I appreciate your offer, Lateo is too large and now it seems too dangerous for me to allow it. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you.”

“But there is no one else who can do this,” she argued. “We’re months away from my father’s visit, and I’m not sure my mother can make it that long.”

_She’s just sentenced me to death._

“There is one other who could help,” Liam said, causing her stomach to turn. To reaffirm what she already suspected, he made a significant glance upstairs. Before she could argue, he added, “My son has spent his life traveling around Lateo collecting ingredients with Sabine and me. He is quite knowledgeable about the land.”

Although what he said was reassuring, the worry was still evident on her face.

“I promise it will all work out,” Liam said in an attempt to comfort her. “I’ll let him sleep for now.”

While Damon slept the entire day, Liam spent much of that time hobbling to and fro grabbing items he believed they might need for their separate trips. After creating a stack by the stairs that could not possibly be carried by two people, he began putting things away.

While he was rushing around, Oriana tried to keep busy by cleaning some of the glass and potion on the floor. Aside from a couple of scratches, she did a fairly decent job of cleaning the mess. Had Millie been there the disarray would have been straightened up in less than an hour.

Missing her mother, Millie, and home something terrible, she excused herself to her room that afternoon. There she was able to fully examine her knapsack, repairing the broken strap with needle and thread so it was still usable. Once it was mended, she repacked it with everything Millie had sent with her. The thought of seeing them again, having failed in retrieving the potion, she began to second-guess the decision to send her home. She would be of no use stuck on Triste. All she could do is sit around, watching Millie care for her dying mother. It would be maddening, so she decided to appeal to Liam once more.

Having heard very little of Liam for the past hour she left her room to see what he was doing. Sidestepping the bags lying carelessly by the door she found the potion maker in the kitchen staring out at the sunset.

“We all leave tomorrow,” he spoke finally. “I will escort you home to Triste, and check on your mother. Hopefully, I can make her more comfortable for now.”

Before she could argue that she would be put to better use by helping him, they were both jolted by a crash coming from down the hall. Whispering for her to stay back, Liam moved silently as he could from the room. Seconds later she heard a chuckle from him and left to investigate the disturbance herself. Tangled up in the bags by the stairs was Damon, whose mood had obviously not improved.

“What is all of this for?” he asked, finally picking himself off of the floor. “Are you going after her?”

“No, I feel it would be best to listen to Facinlor’s threats for now,” Liam replied. “Some of the bags are for my trip. The rest are for you. You’ll be leaving-”

“What are you talking about?” Damon interrupted. “I just got here.”

“Many lives depend on me making the Ambrosia Elixir, and I cannot collect the ingredients alone.” His voice had changed from his usual steady tone to a slightly more commanding one. “We need your help, son,” he added softly putting his hand on Damon’s shoulder.

Damon looked in Oriana’s direction, causing her breath to catch as their eyes met. He jerked away and whispered something to his father out of Oriana’s earshot. By the look on his face seconds later, it was obvious that he regretted whatever he had said. Angrily he yanked open the front door and ran off into the night, leaving Liam frozen in the doorway.

“Please do not worry,” he said, his back still facing her. “This has nothing to do with him helping you; he just needs time to adjust to everything.” He turned and gave her a half-hearted smile to try to reassure her. “I’m going to talk to him. Do not open this door for anyone.”

“I won’t,” she called, but he was already out the door.

After ten minutes of pacing, she gave up thinking about Damon and trying to figure out what he could have said. After thirty minutes still thinking about him, she decided he was just as annoying as Reid, but at least Reid had respect for adults. After awake lying in bed for an hour, Oriana decided she couldn’t trust her mother’s fate to a rude, angry boy with a chip on his shoulder. No, it was up to her to get the ingredients and save her mother’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I posted the first three chapters from the first book of my 6 book series because most agents ask for 1-3 chapters. Book 1 is fully written; it's just in a constant state of edit because as I write later books, I'm updating things here and there.
> 
> My hope in posting this was to get some feedback (good/bad/indifferent) because I would like to get published someday. Anything would be helpful, from the story to the title and summary. Thank you so much for reading! :)


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